


One Life and a Spare

by FromAnonymousToZ



Category: Grand Theft Auto V, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cannibalism, M/M, Murderous Thoughts, Oh, Violent Thoughts, Zombie Apocalypse, what else do I tag here?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 04:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20039905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromAnonymousToZ/pseuds/FromAnonymousToZ
Summary: “Jimmy?” The voice is low, echoey, it sounds like… it sounds like… it sounds like Stan on oxy. Jimmy has never been so happy to hear that dark tone that reminds him of the demons in story books. Hope peaks in his chest as the shuffling sounds reignite into footsteps. He lowers his knife and drops his defensive stance.





	One Life and a Spare

**Author's Note:**

> This au belongs to Gay Spaghetti on tumblr. Find them here: https://gay-spaghetti.tumblr.com/ I claim no rights to this AU, but it was fun to write. I'll be writing their monster/monsterhunter AU next so be warned. Depending on how long my fixation lasts it could be posted this week, or like, in years.  
This work is also a gift to them, however unfortunately I could not find an AO3 account to gift it to officially.

Slouching in his small hideout tucked in an abandoned warehouse Jimmy ran his fingers through fading teal hair, slowly reverting to its original dark coloring, adjusting his cracked sunglasses and suppressing the ache in his shoulders. He ripped open the instant food packet and hastily unscrewed the water bottle from his pack with his teeth. He can’t bare to even glance at the water, bottle for too long, it reminds him too much of Stan. Stan who had given Jimmy a brilliant smile before he drove off that night, to his hovel of an apartment. Stan who he hadn’t seen since the outbreak started months ago. Eating instant food that tastes a bit like cardboard pretending to be food. He tugs his jacket up around his shoulders, closing his eyes to bar the image of Stan’s apartment empty when he finally made it there, crowbar in hand, smashed remnants of Stan’s door behind him, having fought his way through the hoards that had cropped up overnight to find Stan. 

A low moaning from outside makes him shudder, the groans well up around the building in a never ending cacophony of agony. The footsteps sound human. But the creatures around him are not human anymore. The plague took them. And now Jimmy is the only one left. He ignores the sound, checks over his hasty fortifications. This isn’t a base of operations, Jimmy doesn't have one. 

The few people who survived… they either lived in the sanctuaries, run by former mob bosses and criminals operating in the husks of buildings and old whore houses. They couldn't or didn't want to get into the ‘sanctuaries’ of filth, and made their own sanctuaries or they were like Jimmy. They roamed. They found a place to stay each night and food for each day. They were scavengers. 

Jimmy takes a long drink from his water before a sound of shoes scraping hard concrete floors makes him whirl. He peers into the darkness, stooping to set down the water, refusing to drop it and spill it in the name of Stan’s memory. He pulls out his knife and takes a few cautious steps into the darkness from beyond where his fire casts light.

“Jimmy?” The voice is low, echoey, it sounds like… it sounds like… it sounds like Stan on oxy. Jimmy has never been so happy to hear that dark tone that reminds him of the demons in story books. Hope peaks in his chest as the shuffling sounds reignite into footsteps. He lowers his knife and drops his defensive stance.

But the creature that shuffles into the light isn’t the bright smiley water man that Jimmy was hoping for. The creature has Stan’s body sure. Tall and broad shouldered, dressed in a blue polo that was ripped in multiple places. Blonde hair ruffled wearing his shorts, fanny pack around his waist. Dirt smudged his face and a few series of lacerations on his arms that looked like they had come from clawing himself. A large bite wound in his arm was crusted with blood. 

Jimmy almost shot the thing right there. 

But then he saw his face. 

Stan’s face is streaked with tears, his eyes wide and heart broken but flickering with hope as the zombie gazed at Jimmy. A weak smile grew wider though the zombie’s eyes were still wounded. 

“Oh, Friendly J I missed you so much.” The thing shuffles forward quickly, arms spread wide as if to scoop Jimmy up into a hug but Jimmy scurries back. 

“Get away from me!”

Stan falters and looks hurt. 

“Jimmy?” Jimmy struggles with his gun but finally clicks the safety off and aims it at the creature’s head. 

“Get back or I’ll shoot.” Jimmy snaps trying to keep his composure, his hands shaking. The creature in front was not Stan he reminded himself, it was infected. And even if Stan had been infected minutes before there was no cure, there was no way to save Stan, he’d be gone by morning. It would be an act of mercy to take out the poor water man now. 

“Jimmy.” The word is a plea. Stan is looking at him with wide betrayed eyes and Jimmy can’t do it, he can’t pull the trigger. Sighing he clicks on the safety and shoves the gun back into the holster at his belt. The creature takes a tentative step forward and Jimmy’s hand is back on the gun.

“Stay right there.” The creature steps back and seems about to say something when Jimmy cuts in. “When did you get bitten Stan.” It hurts to say the name when he knows his friend will be gone soon enough. 

The zombie seems to think for a few moments before saying uncertainty. 

“Two weeks ago?” 

“TWO WEEKS!” Jimmy exclaims wildly only for Stan to flinch back despite the 3 meters between them. “Stan you got infected two weeks ago? That's impossible. You’re lying to me Stan.”

“I’d never lie to you Friendly J.” Stan says solemnly. 

“If you got bit two weeks ago how are you still… alive.” Jimmy snaps.

“Well gee Friendly J, I don't know. Maybe it’s all the extra water I drink? You know it’s important to drink at least 2 liters of water a day.” With a half chuckle the creature trails off looking at him pleadingly. Jimmy blinks at him and is suddenly very sure that zombie or not, it is definitely Stan. 

“How did you find me Stan?” Jimmy is surprised when he sees the guilt flash across Stan’s face. 

“Well you see… I…”

“Spit it out Stan.” 

“I was so hungry Friendly J.” Stan’s voice is begging again. “And you smelled so good, and I followed the smell and…” Stan trailed off and his eyes seemed to flash, his body quaking slightly. Jimmy only manages to take one step back when the creature moves.

Stan lunges at him, covering 3 meters in a mere second. Jimmy is knocked to the ground under the weight of his once friend. 

Stan’s hands clutch at his shirt and jacket, knees on either side of Jimmy’s hips. 

“I’m so hungry Jimmy. I eat and I eat and I eat and it’s never enough.” Stan whimpers, pressing his face into Jimmy’s neck, causing the man to tense. “You smell so good.” Stan noses against his neck, and Jimmy swears he almost feels the scrape of sharp teeth but the zombie restrains himself. “Please.” Stan’s voice cracks. “Please.” The zombie seems to be trying to get as close to Jimmy as it can without ripping him open and nesting inside him. 

Jimmy’s foot connects with Stan’s stomach and sends the zombie flying off of him. Stan lands on his back a few feet away as Jimmy scrambles to his feet, gun cocked and ready, this time Jimmy is ready to paint the walls with Stan’s brains. 

The zombie hasn’t gotten up. Stan has curled up and is weeping. 

“Im sorry, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me Friendly J. Please.” Stan begs from the floor and once again Jimmy is unable to pull the trigger, he stands there above the zombie gun in hand for a long minute and finally shoves the gun back in it’s holster. 

“Wait here Stan.”

And with that Jimmy turns and walks into the wasteland outside. The night is eeri, the chorus of the undead louder than ever, and armed with a gun, knife, and crowbar, he disappears. 

Half an hour later he returns, a coil of chain over his shoulder, splattered with dark blood. The trip had taken twice as long as it should have because Jimmy had to wait every time he aimed at a zombie, just to see if it would open its mouth and speak. He had never had any trouble killing living people, why would this be any different. Dropping his crowbar and gun to the floor he held the chain in one hand as he pointed his knife at Stan.

“Stay still, don't move or I’ll cut your hands off Stan.” Jimmy threatens emptily but Stan nods and whimpers all the same. Jimmy squashes down a peal of guilt for making Stan look any way but happy. 

Edging closer Jimmy clicked open the metal collar connected to the chain, originally meant for a dog, which had been long dead when Jimmy found the key, opened the collar and pried the metal stake from the ground. 

When Stan kept his eyes on Jimmy but did not move Jimmy darted in to clip the collar closed around the zombie’s neck. Fishing the key out of his pocket he locks the metal collar snugly around Stan’s neck before darting back length of chain still in hand. 

When he was contented that Stan wouldn't make any sudden moves he moves a full chain’s length away and takes the stake and lines it up, pounding it as deep into the concrete as he can with the back of the crowbar which leads to loud resounding clangs. After finally getting the stake in deep enough that he was content with it he wiped the sweat and grime from his brow and brushes his hands off and walks back to the smolders of his fire and his makeshift camp. Stan only a few feet away gazes at him. Jimmy finally brings himself to meet Stan’s eyes. They aren’t hurt anymore, just curious. 

And hungry.

“In the morning if you’re still capable of thought we’ll get you something to eat.” Jimmy’s stomach churns at the thought of what it would take to fill Stan up. Putting the thought out of his mind he stomped out the rest of the embers in his fire, trying to take his anger and confusion out on something that won't beg his forgiveness even as he slaughters it.

“Thank you Friendly J, for helping me.” Stan’s voice is innocent, naive, Jimmy ignores it, trying to shut out the traitorous thought whispering in his mind that he’ll have to put Stan down soon. At least, if Stan manages to break the chain the sound will warn Jimmy so he can prepare. He slips into his sleeping bag and pointedly faces away from Stan so he doesn't have to see the reflection of those blue ringed red eyes in the darkness. Silence falls over them and Stan’s voice comes again through the darkness.

“Good night Friendly J.” 

A moment of silence drags out. 

“Good night Stan.” Jimmy says softly and tries to fall asleep and ignore Stan’s distinct lack of breath.

When Jimmy wakes up Stan is still there, sitting cross legged facing him. Staring at him with eyes blown wide in hunger. Jimmy ignores him. He packs his back pack but keeps his medical kit out, now running low of sorely needed supplies. He changes the bandages on his arm where an errant nail had ripped his arm open. Eyeing Stan he figures he should probably clean Stan up a bit.

He says as much to Stan and moves to approach the zombie who launches forward teeth snapping before being yanked back by the chain. Jimmy flinches back as Stan props himself up again and gazes at Jimmy eyes filled with shame.

Slowly stan casts his gaze down at the ground. 

“Maybe it’s not so smart for you to get close to me.” Stan says his voice shaky. Jimmy slowly squares his shoulders. 

“No. No. I can clean you up, just wait here I need to find something.” And for the second time in only a few hours Jimmy disappears into the wastes of Los Santos, leaving Stan behind again. It’s so tempting to leave, to disappear and put Stan out of his mind, but he knows he can’t abandon him. When he returns he has something metal gripped in his hand and he inches up to Stan whose mouth is agape and salivating, sharp teeth on display, fighting the collar around his neck to get to Jimmy, the urge to sink his teeth into Jimmy’s jugular and feel the blood pounding from Jimmy’s still beating heart spill into his mouth. 

Jimmy awkwardly forces his crowbar into Stan’s mouth holding it open while he fastened one half of the muzzle before quickly removing the crowbar and fastening the otherside. The metal cage around Stan’s mouth gave the creature pause. Stan tilted his head and snapped his jaws a few times as if getting used to the muzzle. 

With the barrier between Stan’s hunger and Jimmy’s warm blood the zombie seemed to calm down and Jimmy smiled weakly.

“I’m sorry.” Stan whimpered out after a moment. And Jimmy let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

“It’s not your fault Stan.” He smiled before taking a bottle of water and some cotton and wetting the cotton. Gently swabbing away the blood on the cuts on Stan’s forearms and wiping away the crusted blood around a wound that no longer bleeds. Carefully cutting lengths of cloth from the spool of gause he wraps Stan’s injuries and moves to where the chain is staked into the ground. 

Prying the stake from the ground is no easy matter but after a few minutes of huffing and puffing he does it. Then chain in one hand, backpack over his shoulder he leads Stan into the day.

The zombies make themselves scarce during the day, a bit like minecraft zombies Jimmy thinks bitterly. But fortunately for him Stan does not burst into flame. 

Jimmy surveys the empty streets for a long moment before sighing.

“Alright, lets see if we can steal a car.”

“I still have the truck.” Jimmy turns his head to face the zombie still looking at his feet, eyebrows arched in surprise. 

“You still have the truck? How a vehicle full of water would have been ransacked within the first day.” Then he paled. “Oh gosh Stan please tell me you didn't kill them.” 

“No!” Stan exclaims. “I was out in the woods for a delivery, about two days away, I got there and no one showed up except an old elderly couple who didn't have the money for the water and there weren't many people around, the woods are really pretty you know but not a lot of zombies there at first. And by the time I got back to Los Santos there were hardly any people left, so I went looking for Roy, my sweet, sweet baby boy, but I couldn't find him and then I got bit… and well none of the zombies wanted any water when I offered them some.” Stan rambled. Jimmy sighs.

“Stan it’s ok. Let's just go to the truck”

They walk through the streets, Stan a respectable distance away but not a full chain’s length, occasionally drifting closer as saliva dripped from his muzzle. 

When they find the truck Jimmy quells the joy he feels at the familiar vehicle. Opening the back of the truck to see what they were working with he saw first stacks and stacks of water. Climbing into the truck he notices the lights strung up in the back of the truck and raises an eyebrow. As he moves through the truck he notices something shoved in the back. It’s a mattress with a nest of pillows and blankets arranged atop. 

Jimmy feels his heart break a little. 

Stan had been living out of his truck as a zombie, even though he couldn't sleep he had made himself a little bedroom. Dumping his pack in the back of the truck he climbs out and wipes off his hands. Now all of his and Stan’s worldly possessions were tucked in the back of a single water truck, it was symbolic, he was sure, though he was too exhausted physically and emotionally to figure out exactly what the symbolism meant. 

He turns to smile at Stan to reassure the man that they’ll find a way, only to be knocked to the ground by a slobbering zombie that is most definitely not Stan. 

Jimmy shoves her, or what's left of the woman, off of him, but not before his jacket saves his life for the hundred and something-th time, the creatures teeth unable to pierce the thick leather. He staggers to his feet and has his gun out but Stan is already upon her.

Jimmy watches, still clutching Stan’s leash, as he grapples with the she-zombie. Stan’s fingers rips chunks of rotting flesh and lumps of hair from her, as Jimmy watches in horror. She lets out howling cries of pain shrieking and squirming beneath Stan’s bulk.

Then the snap of heavy duty fabric tearing fills the air. The muzzle clatters to the ground a few feet away and Stan descends upon her. 

Stan dissolves into a feeding fervor. His teeth tear at the woman. Slicing open her stomach, devouring what was within. His teeth tear into chunks of flesh and muscle as he eats all while Jimmy stands there frozen in shock. 

When Stan finally withdraws from the woman he looks at Jimmy, filaments of muscle and clumps of decaying matter around his mouth. He finally looks full, sated, unhungry. Jimmy instinctively knows Stan is no threat right now but he can hardly wash the disturned look from his face, he had just watched a woman devoured. 

Stan’s pupils dilate in fear and shame and he wails, his body convulses as if he’s having one of his seizures and he hangs his head. 

“Please don't leave me alone Friendly J. Please Jimmy, I promise I won't do it again.” Stan whined, practically groveling at Jimmy’s feet and even though Jimmy couldn't see his face he could practically hear the tears streaming down Stan’s face. 

“No. It’s ok Stan.” He felt a smile tugging on his face despite himself as he moved to get into the truck motioning for Stan to follow. 

“We can make this work Stan.” And with that Jimmy floored it and he and Stan were on their way to a new life. It wouldn't be easy, it wouldn't be normal, but it was the only life they had, and unlike Stan, Jimmy did not have a spare.

**Author's Note:**

> This au belongs to Gay Spaghetti on tumblr. Find them here: https://gay-spaghetti.tumblr.com/ I claim no rights to this AU, but it was fun to write. I'll be writing their monster/monsterhunter AU next so be warned. Depending on how long my fixation lasts it could be posted this week, or like, in years.  
This work is also a gift to them, however unfortunately I could not find an AO3 account to gift it to officially.


End file.
